He says he understands .Mr Nietzche lived in a certain peculiar age, when as things would have it, the finesse was dragged out .

The finesse of accumulation , resulted.And wait and wait since then, Since,

Because, after it left, the finesse, that sweet flower, The evil of which highlighted its savage beauty,

Nothing to take its place.

Oh, she was such a gambler they would say, fortunes lost, on trifles and trinkets to make up for them,

Bizarre how wars full as did that mad king who supported Sigfried's lament, did not venture intoThe depravity descend, of daring not to be, a spendthrift.

The cross to follow now is not, any more in the vanity, but on miscevious grins, and glorious resurrections. Wait for me, I will, as for you, I would give you my last farthings, as payment for your soul, if only you would love me.

Wait for me will you, no one in particular days to another peculiarly no body, so as we could perchance meet, in the middle of the night, under a bridge, per chance, a silvery crescent moon overhead, that our commitment to each other be sealed.

But in days to come as wearily we seek that precious embrace, that frugal sentiment, where the heaving bosoms fall ignoble , marked with so dread of invisibility as no other, even to death,

That, or scoot phobic friends will remember us for what we really meant to them, and take this brazen journey to our last ring, bravely spitting through the fog, loving those who cannot see us, and learning with them the art of pointillist if near sightedness, alone now, with them, will they let us gaze as their countenance revolves around as now a flexed and stretched she ditch film, irresolutemerging, indiscerned with myraids of others ,

Now, before, after, this and that here, now a milkmaid pulling up jugs of a deep well, frozen in time could of been your mother, mine, oursOr even you sweet Caroline.

But then , oh, as was Dido abandoned, on such jagged shore, into the deepest azure, brazing proud against the rising wail of eternity's heavy onslaught,If receptive could hear all possible routes, Deliriously scenic, pungent with exquisite possibility.

Then how can you be but bored, the soul rush headlong into such sweet face as yours, and still, forget, that once this sandstorm stilled,the sun shone for a tiny, lonely while to let your visage coalesce and stay, oh, stayfor a while.

Yesterday on a train ausicolpgist explained about the redemption in Parcifal. How Cundry extended the sexual theme from the Rheingold, the depraved sexually starved little man's theft ,a transformation , whereby Cundry pays the price, ....whwreas he thought it was the Knight was redeemed, whereas it must have neem Cundry, the Knight in shining armor the redeemer, climbing up the fair maiden's long hair to save her from the tower's vertigious prison, dies does she but deliverance in the eternal afterlife that is not of this world.

In this way the ring completes its fateful redemption, of the old from the new, the feminine through the masculine, the symbol through the idea

jerkey wrote:Yesterday on a train a musicologist explained about the redemption in Parcifal. How Cundry extended the sexual theme from the Rheingold, the depraved sexually starved little man's theft ,a transformation , whereby Cundry pays the price, ....whereas he thought it was the Knight who was redeemed, whereas it must have been Cundry, the Knight in shining armor the redeemer, climbing up the fair maiden's long hair to save her from the tower's vertigious prison, dies does she but deliverance in the eternal afterlife that is not of this world.

In this way the ring completes its fateful redemption, of the old from the new, the feminine through the masculine, the symbol through the idea

Yesterday, there occurred what seemed like a monumental event in his life He visited a place of darkness .only to test himself. He knew something has changed within his sole, after all its only a trial run , he had to decide. Was he sincere in himself not to love up to the message of the ring and forgo revenge and absolve himself from the power of his own curse, where even the gods can not have jurisdiction? Can he overcome this on all fronts, even if ot be only a flimsy hope engendered on the Lotus of desire? He felt as if such travail into the world of pleasure, of envy trespasses on the hopes of the young, who generate only a faux compensation, the final depravity of the failings of an aesthetic revival the little gnome becomes evident in his fall into two?

Last . Night. At the opera asked if a quintessential meaning can become so earth shattering as to define the moment , to the degree that the correspondence can become so wrought with personhood as to create a tunnel effect of identifiable identity and the answer?

Yea, resounding. YES.

Take it: to the limit.

And then how does the word become real?

By looking out for implausable, unimaginable occurances.A kind of haunting.

Never ever to be thought of as referential in the optical sense,but oh so discriminatory and flagellative in the purest sense, as to abate the power even, the will of union.

In it's purest sense, it converts beneficence unto the anti-hero.

For him or here, it becomes irrelevant whether it is lust or love to choose between, for the downward lunge , the quest for the third shimmers again as a possibility a latency which exists only for the sake of others. Everything else in this lunge, the luge will illuminate with a blinding light. For your eyes, Only.

Sigfried: for him no fear exists either of the godess's vanity, nor of the Dorian column's insistent call, grey does the color become, between the white amd the black, of mere fear of the countenance of the charity. Grey, the image or should be the image of succeeding years heaped upon wagner's reduction

Collapse into the primal earlhly mother erde,,the primitive narcissitic ideation which has successfully solved Sigfied''s problem of his narcissitic quandry, of not recognizing himselfthrough his own eyes, but needing his father's, who knows that his was half, God has created his conscious will to be separate , and she intiuted it all along. But still, he needed this self recognition because he was condemned by the law of causes and effects which prescribed it. Erde was only hoping to make it last much much longer, or at least appear that way, but Wotan had his way of eternally shortening it to the limits of quanta effects. Wotan, after all, is the determination of which the basic powers of the glitter of appearances bow to.

Therefore the girl had to re unite for his sake and disappear again, in a ring of fire.

Whenever, think of the delirium as a sign no much more elaborate, then those to whom it don't matters whether this world lives or dies. Sure it takes one, to know, one who will go to any extreme to save, that which so many have labored for millennia to nurture with love, and kindness, sure, you could side step each and every one, even ones who have almost list relationships cause of acid.

No,no no, bros, it goes deeper then that, as deep as the depth HE spoke of when in staring at the depth it stared back. Believe of the special powers given those solitaries who truthful, yet hyper real, can through occult means through the grace not pretend, through their own self sacrifice!

What if any comfort be taken in an exemplary dare not put upon, but by some strange ness whose love of, now pray to dis assemblage such magicke?

Do not fear, because it is at hand dare say some, even if, some, trying, to flush out as temptation, the automatic writing come upon, gurdieff you did not heed, nor Ann best T, nor khrisnamurti, nor bohemian, or an early progenitor, Bergson?

No, disbelief carries mor power, if a populist stands up and preach, so that the letting of blood can again hope to raise some hope of drastic change?

What of it, how write a deranged 18 th century mystic, who only wanted to love, who only wanted to elevate the soul of those hampered and too blind to see?

Be ware of false prophets like stung rays they are more dangerous yet, pretend not, yet the judgement is at hand, whether we like it or not, and even at this hour we can ,can put a stop to it, yes we can, can can .

If you isolate, demonize, marginalized, it will not do any good at all- well here it is, turd, let it all out, will leave in a second, but Mystics and occultist so can not just get up and leave, they owe tons of debt, they know it, and have to know, exactly what it is they call divine love.

No, Sauwellos, Nietzche has to be understood by a Dostoevskian, yes Russian character, the lowest serf ever existed, having only one redeeming attribute to live for, and that is: compassion. - can't say it in one line.

What of biblical prophecy as a foregone conclusion based on a predictive fallacy? Could that has basis in the negative view of human nature, VI's. human groupings based on Hobbe's negative view of human nature, and not on Rousseau's positive one? Could prophecy change the course of events by a sort of subliminal desire for it? Or even , has prediction a futuristic circularity about it? As a foreshadow of the breaking of Saint Anselm's circular reasoning-in his proof of the existence of God? And as a corollary, to break the circlarity of the reasons for faith?

In this manner, any demonstration of a willful engagement in the belief of the catastrophe inherent in creation, be subjugated in denial?

Nietzsche implies this very thing, in the Antichrist model, where, he elevates the nihilizer as needing no conscience as pretaining to nothing else but the will.The will to destroy only the subservient, only to give power to those, who keep formal vestment alive, for the world may be only a formal representation of it's pure will to have it recur.

Could the pattern be broken, do not the recurrent forms of familiar faces, places, graces Predict tomorrow?

Or can you toss your painful remembrance not engrained as permanent in bronze the predictable,Nay, almost certain:

But do stay, True,As we were, so that it can again come, as it was first predictedNot to disassemble unrecognized,

Into a formless mold,

Put up a fight, stay within the bounds, Not unnerved and pitifully drawn as lesser Pull down to entangle yet, denigrate

Suppose you be born again, suppose you be borneAgain and again and again,

As if you was you was you, and you You you and you You you, only and even if you are not.

You have been here before my frien, before and before that, And even then even if after one day you do not recognize me and I you,

do you go on for ever, or have you never been borne?For if the former then the latter contradicts, contradicts by aligning with the contradictory way analysis, has been borne of excluding the terrain, the background, the miles and miles behind, left for seeming new spin offs of eternities, of other far away times, places,

But it is only a simulated thought, a whisk of faint poisonous hint into those faint and precious ears, whose painful forbidence to those who steal these while feasting on their carcasses,

Oh no, loose your dreams and then you loose your mind.

They will take steal your soul , if you let them oh , no, don't let them.

No, it is the before that matters more, then the thereafter, the forming defining the form, the form of which, is not dead, the formless form is a reassurance, a reassurance and an insurance against deceit.

This is why the beginning defines the new beginning, the end of which should not make it as if his nerves gave up for lack of belief.

The circle is assuredly where the end bites the new

beginning.

When asked if there is a difference between the eternity or the rest,

The rest of all who see it as a totally black nothingness:

The proof if here, here I am, you, and you, and you, who is and is and are ever as Leaves of grass, ever a reminder as the golden sun sets on its myriad endless waves through , as they always long, for another day.

Now near, hear: those near, or far, lend me your earThis was long time ago coming, and with a nervous disposition, he transitioned, back. Back to source, out of sort, back to out, of sort, back to the source, out, source.

This was inevitable, people get ready, or else suppress, silence all that led up to this. Deny it on the basis it's too far gone, irrelevant by the sort,

Back to the future right but foreword to the past wrong.

This is not a damned popularity contest she snorted, her bellowing moans unheard of yesterday, since then becoming omniously present. Let me be, shooting fire out of both nostrils, let me be, while winking past the object standing before her the unfinished business.

Where were you when I needed you, when I fell, with both wings burning the clear yellow drops of wax mixing with tears and grime and blood. Why do you deny me with such vehemence as if you merely cared for my sweet caress upon your velvety undertow, with the stumps of wings left to only one remaining purpose to comfort you and make you feel like a real woman again?

For you are a woman, abstracted from the little girl,

everyone's little girl?

And nervous he became when he became aware of the gordian knot, the knot from which there is no untangling, the Knots of which he said: no your ok, you are definitely not out of your element, your mind.

And as he withdrew into the abyss of real insanity, skeptics charged Munchausen, feigning the escape from intolerance. He knew, but was he scared that scared?

He went through it never the less, charging forward heading a brigade of souls, who cared not if he was for real, they knew, they knew against all odds ,

Trumpeting the toll of the seven, Even if of a prophecy of self, fulfillment. But why? He asked, because your self now, so empty, so vacuous of content. For if it was said you did it to others, before he did it to your self, then, it is sealed and justified.

Hey are nerveous in this age of duplicity, and again the wave, expected as the Tsunami following the earthquake, and for heavens to murgotroy it is bound to follow, whereupon the née Sayers chime in I told you so but late too late.

So if you see, in your worst enemy the little kind wise baby that once she was, tied by that most bound love of the mother, don't forget her, who did miraculously deliver him, deliver him was said, will come, again and again, her redemption will cure the most dire sin of them all: the unforgiving duplicity of the rakers of mud, the slingers of gratitude for infliction of pain heaped upon the shoulders of the. Angels and the archangels, the fools and martyrs, the victims and the saints. Don't forget them even those who fought in spite of Nero's downturned palm, in spite of the final temptation, in spite of she snorting , and betraying the beast within. Has this monstrous fearful being left completely, or is it yet overlapping a porously dense saturated jungle of nerves, ready to strike out as though once was said in defiance of the Cross, another sign in a long road with other milestones?Do not contemptuously Ye, dare, throw them away, for fear of the little nets will crush you for all eternity.

Does one cancel another, overlapping by acuity, or, saturated by lust, so they cannot heed Khrishnamurti's call to oblige to let it go?

What beast copulate, while their sleeping babe is being tortuously devaoured by this hungry beast? maybe the dumb fish who have stayed in that ocean of despair, from which we managed to escape, appreciating the difference between food and on cell organisms of their own creation.

Sentience did not suddenly come down out of divine grace, it was a hard won prize, and to shortcut that, by a quick swing of Occam's razor, does injustice to

all who struggled for eons to get past the mistakes of karmic retribution.

No, wonder why he became nerveous at the end, when most if not all could never in a million years understand, that it was fate flying on the wings of

inviolate fallenness which advised him not to glance back for pain of turning into a pillar of stone, the wisdom of which still stands on that rock of Athena.

If you can't look back, those blinders will rush fireward, bravely, into a new hope, but condemned to loose the ground from which all traces of this fear gather the humongous strength of their decomposition.

But hark, those who like Norah can stand in the grace of the original intent, which they so shielded from the eyes of those fearful ones, their own begotten, but in stead can teach them the delicate ladder, those will spare them from the suffering pain, and be transposed into the world of the coming age of Aquarius.

Oh! She said, and the floodgates erupted. Everything goes, at basement prices. Like the Black Friday draws the crowds by an irresistible fetish, they like in the day of the locust overwhelmed by the fountain of desire.

In that famous scene they are still talking about where Anita Ecberg wades into the Trevi Fountain. Her skirt bellowing and bubbles coming through her shapely legs. It is the breaking point, it bursts, Anais Nin called it a petite mort, a little death, whereby liberation of a little time is afforded to the victim. Just a little peaceful scene, with the sunshine finally breaking through after a long absence of indulgence, a mortification of the spirit.

Her problems mounted, her bills piled, and the more she denied their existence, the more she lost at the casino.

It was a viscious cycle, and he was not so much of a help. It started with a diamond as big as a city block, and it ended with this. A constant craving, with her straddling his hips and with a final push inward let it break. She was older, significantly, and her tastes have changed. She was loosing everything, might as well, and he was leaving as well, he told her as much they had breakfast up on the hill, the hill they thought for ever would rebound their promise. And when it last, the taste of that rushing current at last, reminded her of the disappointing temporality of it all, almost becoming tasteless, almost merely a metaphor of a reminder for something nearly sacred, she decided the guru's advice to gradually deconstruct the ideal topic, the topicality of possession, into the genius of creation. But slow, ever so slow now that this near tasteless prologue of coming attractions earn some credit.

Where was her portfolio? It never really happened, he tried to assemble it for her, holding back the tears which such depravation of the prize could afford, but failed miserably, over no over, and when the last abstract lines were confined into the colors, then the gates broke, and all the brokenness of the anathema of reality came crashing down, confirming Ned Rorem's idea that any one who can, can-can, and achieve the sublime, yet unsublimaged heights available readily the mechanics of love.

For it is the mechanics, the motions f it, if successfully achieved ,that stare indifferently to the resulting few drops, of gods' elixir , and to be perfectly blunt, it is the intention, not the effect which counts in paradise.

She lost it, the whole nine yards gone, and soon he will be like everybody else to her, and he to him, their commitment as tasteless and of lackluster constituency as anyone they had come across before. They saw the film Jules et Jim that time hoping to drain the last ounce out of each other, for they were vampires living on each others' strength, but it was late, and she brought up the bills, hoping like before he could take care of them, but not this time. He lost badly that night, the casino just a dim hogpodge of noise and tasteless greedy idle chatter, the faces around the table mixing as they revolved around the common denominator of futility.

He loved her, and he knew he can't loose her, and if he were, he could never reassemble that was for him was severely cut up, deconstructed. He became a fetish of forlorn desire to possess now, a spiritual totem pole, which could attain the very sharp tip, if only he could hold unto it.

This Christmas I can not buy him a Tiffany gold trinket, but he is Mexican, so I'll buy him a a silver chain, anyway, it is more prized down there, referring to their Puerto Vallarta visit last summer. Maybe he will understand.

It is getting bad, you see he says to her. They won't shut me in, and they can't keep me in. Bravado, and a hunger like anyone could possess, insatiable, animal like, a steppenwolf, quietly understanding all references to hybrids of all kinds.

And then she gets angry, seizing me up, and I protest her equally explicated view that; ' you are simply into pain because of you obsession with death.'

And then she drinks away, awash in regret, but the realization of this pseudo immortal being leaving only droplets of her soul scattered throughout the lubricous carpet.

Leaving for Cebu next week, fear and loathing. Informed of zero tolerance for grass there, and the new rechnologynsmelks out containers even after there is nothing to contain, as proven by this august coming through Denver airport, having been warned by head in the obscurity. So it is true what is being said about machines, dogs no longer needed. But what of extra judicial killings there for possession.

Arrived in Cebu. Advised not to go around at night. Don't feel any kind of heat from natives, such as casting of unkind glances. Poverty evident all around. Staying at the Waterfront Hotel. Sniffing dogs at sensitive places. One of them took a liking to me, sniffed my bag, then settled near me sitting down on his shanks, and looking up with kind eyes. No sign of terrorists or even Muslim extremists, they say they are further south. Forgot to go to Apple to find out how I can send pictures, will try to take some photos tomorrow. Staying in Cebu 3 days, then on to Visayas, Tacloban, the place two years ago, a devastating monsoon killed 20,000 people.